she dances a slow dance with death, barefoot, draped in purple, to music only she hears, whispers on wind tips, in and out from the shadows, balancing between dark and light, need and want, pieces of herself plucked from her core like the leaves of autumn called to sleep at the feet of their mother
she dances a slow dance with death, slipping deeper, deeper into the darkening night, eyes fading, heart jaded, breath growing shallow, voice silenced to a whimper, donned in purple darkened from tears long shed from wells gone dry praying for winter snow to gently wrap her in silence, where blessed sleep waits, that she might finally rest…that she might find peace
to dance in the rain cool droplets bursting on skin pools lapping our feet drawing us deep into the one we call mother…we call home
come dance in the rain drenched in heaven, head to toe blood of stone rising familiar scent of the earth calling us…calling us home
dancing in the rain our feet cool and tingling letting go at last like autumn leaves twirling ‘round ashes, ashes, falling down
~kat
In case you’re wondering…yes I did. I did dance in the rain this morning. Yes, I got drenched. It was glorious! Peace to you this weekend. Praying for peace. 🕊️
i share space with feral cats who glare through me with wide green eyes plotting my demise, I’m sure of it perched up high ready to pounce when I turn my back, waiting for me to close my eyes, their invitation to settle onto my neck, paws strategically pressed over my mouth and nostrils purring diabolically, conjuring nightmares that rouse me awake, gasping for breath
were it not for the fact that I feed them each day…quality pâté, tasty treats and kibble that they unapologetically retch while begging for more, i’d most certainly be a goner by now
and yet there are moments when they brush against my leg, purring sweetly or roll on their backs inviting me to give their bellies a rub or two, but never three, before nipping my hand a reminder, they didn’t need rescuing, my penance for lifting them from the wild, a lifetime of servitude, and knowing my place silly me for ever thinking any cat could be domesticated
~kat
Another poem today… taking advantage of some down time. Hope you and yours are doing well!
i can almost see the neighbors now their white-washed porch and blue metal roof, the brown-white marbled coats of their horses grazing along the perimeter, just beyond the thinning tree barrier between us trees still green with life, slowly fading, tip tops aglow in shades of amber and rust empty nests teetering like bristly blobs in the wind, nestled in nooks high above the bustle below at long last, autumn has settled in for a spell season of bonfires, apple cider, pumpkin spice, sweaters season of letting go, of gleaning what we’ve sown and offering what’s left back to the earth and sky I can see the neighbors now as the air grows chill as winter looms close and days grow dark as the veil grows thinner…thinner still it’s comforting you know, to remember that I am not…that we are never truly alone i see you…i see you
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.